


Too Close

by 700wordsAmonth



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 2 shot, Criminal Nicole Haught, F/F, FBI agent Waverly Earp, POV Second Person, Smut, Two Shot, Violence, Wayhaught - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-14 19:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20606042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/700wordsAmonth/pseuds/700wordsAmonth
Summary: Nicole Haught is a dangerous woman. You’re aware of that. And your sister, who fought very hard to keep you from taking this job, knows that too.It turns out that getting too close to the enemy might cause some dilemmas you weren't expecting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,  
some of you have already read this first installment of this story. I posted it on September 5 and took it down a few hours later. I’m sorry about erasing the comments and kudos the story had already gotten, but I want you to know that I’ve saved the emails the system sent me with your kind words and that I cherish them dearly.
> 
> This fic was inspired by Mischieftess’s tweet (https://twitter.com/SmugMischief/status/1168145018084892674?s=20) and fanfiction, Speakeasy Duet (https://archiveofourown.org/works/20484959). Check it out if you haven’t already 😊

Nicole Haught is a dangerous woman.

You’re aware of that. And your sister, who fought very hard to keep you from taking this job, knows that too.

But, from your first day undercover, you realized this was the way it had to go. There’s no fastest way into a criminal’s vulnerabilities than by sleeping with them. And Nicole’s eyes had shown you very clearly that you’d have no trouble achieving that.

It was easy, really. She wanted you. And you wanted her laying down, open and unaware.

Wynonna protested even harder after that first report, of course. If there’s something Earps do, it’s protect their own.

You didn’t sleep with Nicole right away, though. You batted your eyelashes and smiled at her and squeezed her fingers when she held your hand, letting her know you were interested too, but you had a job to do and, in order to be safe while doing it, your superiors had to know that that was a possible way in, and there were precautions that had to be taken with the slight change in plans.

Wynonna had fought and screamed and broken coffee cups, if the sounds that came over the burner phone were anything to go by, but Dolls had said it was your call. The Bureau could use that faster and more intimate way in, and there was no previous evidence of Nicole Haught being violent toward the women she slept with.

You decided. Dolls decided. Wynonna begged.

That was how you found yourself here. Trying to find purchase on the wall as Nicole drives a strap-on into you with powerful, though slow-paced thrusts.

You were nervous the first time you let her take you home. She runs a dangerous business, after all, and has had men killed to protect it and herself. And though you did see her be somewhat harsh with the lower levels in her ranks, even during that first week, she hadn’t acted like that with you previous to taking you to bed. Nor did she act like that after doing it.

You remember how your nervousness subsided the further her hands and lips explored your body. And it helped that she noticed your trembling and took it slow. 

You needed your body to take over in that moment and so you focused on how she looked, soft-skinned and beautiful, and on her smell, always sweet.

_Careful what you wish for_, isn't that what they say? 

You discover that Nicole is an attentive lover. She likes to tease, to provoke you into taking action to get what you want, be it a kiss on your lips or a tongue between your thighs. She waits until your body is curving toward her to lay her weight on you. It’s a seamless dance you didn’t expect to find with the head of a mafia.

And even when she’s taking you like this, almost fully clothed, against the wall of your dressing-room, and with a thick cock attached to her hips, you feel no fear.

You should. You really fucking probably should.

But she feels good behind you. She feels _amazing_ inside you. And her fingers, spreading your lips to expose your clit as she fucks you, have you thinking of her mouth on you. Because you know that she will. She loves eating you out after you’ve already come. Loves feeling your aftershocks slowly receding around her tongue.

Though right now she’s taking you from behind, you can’t shake the image of what will happen next from your mind, and it makes you feel like she’s doing both right now: that _nothing_ on your clit, still exposed by her fingers spreading you, feels like _something_. And as you squeeze and pull her cock inside you and groan your pleasure as the waves start taking you, your right hand falls from the wall to pull her head further between your thighs. You falter a bit when all you feel is air – the image and sensation in your mind had been so clear.

She slows her rhythm as you start coming down and you can’t wait. She’s still inside you when you reach behind to thread your fingers through red strands.

“Your mouth. Please.”

She sucks on your earlobe, your neck and bites that meaty part of your shoulder.

“Anything, beautiful,” she says as she moves you to rest your back against the wall and kneels in front of you. A stronger aftershock pulses inside you at the sight alone, making you run your fingers through her hair again to bring her to you.

“No teasing now, okay?” You ask, a little desperate.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know that this is bad. That the fact that she can get you like this is _so, so bad_. But you’re still pulsing for her. Because of her. Her mouth on you is all that you care about right now.

She rests her forehead against your pubic bone and runs her nose through your hair, breathing you in.

“I don’t think I could tease you now even if I wanted to,” she says, her voice low and a little broken. 

And then her lips and tongue are taking you inside her mouth so fully that nothing registers in your brain other than pleasure and the slight pain in your throat from the rough sob that escapes you.

You are sure you haven't stopped pulsing since your first orgasm tonight, and that's how you come again, throbbing inside her mouth and her tongue inside you. 

She gives you time to recover after that. There’s still some leftover pleasure running in your veins, and she offers you her still clothed thigh to rub against as you wait for yourself to finally come fully down from it all.

She’s smiling and kissing you when you open your eyes – kissing your lips, your jaw, your neck with so much want that you remember that she’s very likely still worked up. Still, her arms cradle you to her affectionately, no haste is visible in her other than the urgency shown by her lips on your skin.

Once feeling more grounded, you meet her lips with your own and run your hands down her stomach, exposed by her golden and, now, open shirt, to hold the toy still attached to her. You squeeze it and press it harder against her, and the sounds that pour from her mouth against your cheek as she grinds into your hand are too sweet and you just- You _can’t_.

You can’t understand how she can be this sweet here and so ruthless out there. 

She’s yours when she’s pliable like this. You think she might be yours when she’s cruel too.

You undo the straps that are wrapped around her thighs and hold her in your palm, hot and wet.

_Mine_, your mind growls.

And it’s a problem you don’t want to think about right now, but if there’s something Earps do, it’s protect their own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence in this one.
> 
> I want to thank @LuckyWantsTo (https://twitter.com/LuckyWantsTo) for beta-ing and answering my questions about how to English, as well as for providing me with that outside perspective and with *options*, it was really helpful to make things more clear. 
> 
> Unbuckle your seat belts, guys, we have more commas now, it should be easier to read!

You sigh as you awake, instinctively and slowly spreading your arms and legs to provoke that pleasing stretch to your muscles.

A pale arm falls across your waist and pulls you back into Nicole’s warmer body.

“Morning, Angel,” she murmurs in your ear.

_Angel_. The name you’ve adopted to bring her down. It hadn’t seemed so ironic when you first picked it.

“Hmmm. Would you believe,” you say, your voice scratchy, vocal cords still acclimating to being used after a well-slept night, “that my mother wasn’t even religious?”

“No?” Nicole asks indulgently, her eyes glowing a golden hue due to the morning sun coming in through the floor-to-ceiling window of her loft. “Maybe she had a moment of conversion when she first saw you. I certainly did.”

You feel yourself melt a little, your shoulders falling back more fully against the bed, and your chest open and exposed.

“Aren’t you a little too corny for a big, bad businesswoman?”

“You saying you don’t like it?” she asks, rolling away from you, and you follow her body on instinct, ending up looking down at her.

You trace her features with your fingertips, and a truth comes tumbling out of your lips.

“I know what you are, Nicole.”

She bites her lip, barely holding in a smirk that lightens the moment of silence she takes before answering.

“A vampire?”

“_No!_” you yell, and slap her arm, laughter bubbling out of you.

_How can it be so easy?_

You take a breath in mourning for the moment you’re about to break, and hold her eyes to yours.

“Dangerous, Nicole. You’re a dangerous woman.”

She looks away, eyes following her fingers, which trace the design of the headboard.

It’s not any news to either of you. You’ve been around long enough to see some of the things that go on under her domain, and she knows that. She has kissed you, then excused herself from your arms to meet with men carrying heavy suitcases. She has left the audience in the middle of your performance and followed her security team into a backroom you’re not allowed into, to deal with men that have somehow displeased her. You never know their crimes.

“Not with you,” she says. “That’s just- that’s the other stuff, that’s what the job requires.”

And the job is basically trafficking of drugs and weapons, and illegal taxing of small businesses, all of which often require a heavier hand; but you know that that’s not what it means to her, that there is some pride in it, there’s heritage. There’s _someone_ she’s making proud.

But you also know that that someone isn’t her parents. You’ve seen pictures spread around the loft. She was a cute kid, surrounded by older men and one woman, clearly related to her.

_“These your parents?” You asked during your third time around, not sure which of the men you’d paired up with the woman in that question, but figuring Nicole’s answer would give you space to dig up more._

_“No. No, they… they didn’t want the family. My parents took off when I was 5.”_

_“Oh. So, these people…?” You didn’t even know what you were asking, did they take her in? Did they hurt her? Protect her? Force her into being part of their schemes? _

_“They’re family.”_

_“And they raised you?”_

_Nicole simply shrugged, as she'd do every time in the future when you tried to bring it up again. _

It helped you understand parts of her. Because Nicole is strong and unwavering, loyal the way you’d expect someone on your side of the law to be. You can see how growing up like you believe she did, might have created someone with as much heart as you know she has (with you, with the people she believes to be under her protection), but who’s also so cruel when that’s what’s needed for her to achieve what is expected of her. When _that’s what_ _the job requires._

“I know,” you say, softening your voice, because this is not a prosecution. Not yet. “But I’m afraid that one day the job will ask too much of you. And this version, which I’m quite fond of,” you let your hand find her skin under a light night shirt, “won’t come back.”

“_Hey, _I’ll always come back to you._ _Always._”_ Nicole’s earnest. You don’t understand how someone who can be so open and transparent can succeed in a world of secrets and lies and diversions.

She brushes your hair behind one ear and plays with your earring. Her hand traces the curve of your neck and then follows down the knobs of your spine until the last one. You soak up the affectionate touches, but a hard slap to your butt startles you.

_"Hey!"_

“Move,” she says suddenly, not even trying to contain her grin as she moves to leave the bed, “we’re both glowing, and not in an attractive, vampiric way.”

You run your middle and ring fingers down your forehead and nose. They come away oily.

You’re more amused than offended. You hadn’t expected her to have watched Twilight.

It’s hard to find a balance. You want to do your job, to deliver dates and numbers and names. But she’s under your skin now. You can't know what she looks like when she's already come twice, but you're still touching her and neither of you know if she's begging you to stop or to _ never, ever, stop _ ; you can't know that and still let her go. And it's selfish. It's absolutely selfish, because it has nothing to do with keeping her from prison, and everything to do with keeping her _ with you _.

You’re past trying to justify why you shouldn’t just deliver her to them. You already know you should, and no amount of _ she has killed, but so have I _ can change what you know is right.

You can’t defend her morally as you watch her beat a man up. He’s an asshole, yes, an abuser, but he can barely stand anymore. You’re pretty sure he can’t even see through the amount of blood coming from a cut a couple of centimeters above his left eye. But Nicole doesn’t stop.

You’d followed her into the room this time. Hadn’t listened to her request to stay in the club and enjoy the performance the girls were putting on.

She’d taken off her jacket, rolled up her sleeves and taken off her rings – not for his benefit, you’re sure. Her fingers ran easily through her hair, tying most of the strands into a messy bun.

She let him stand, though he could just as well have been tied down, given that three men of her security team accompanied them into the room. There was no way he could land a blow without being repaid with much worse than Nicole was already planning.

You watched her become sweaty, watched the blood start coating her hands and, now, you watch as it sprays onto her shirt. It’s cowardly in a way you hadn’t yet associated with her.

“Stop.”

She doesn’t seem to have heard you.

"Nicole-"

The sound of her punch interrupts you. She just keeps going.

_“Stop!” _You scream and hold her arm back, preventing her from landing another blow. The movement brings her around to face you.

“I told you to leave the room.” Nicole chews her words, her jaw locked in anger.

“You’ll kill him if you continue.”

“Oh, no. He’s not dying. Right, Jonas?” She turns away from you and forces him to look at her. “Jonas here is learning a lesson. Are you coming back to this club, Jonas?”

He’s terrified, shaking and crying now that the assault has paused, but manages to shake his head in response.

You’re shivering too, though you manage to keep your tears locked painfully in your throat.

“No,” Nicole verbalizes his answer. “And are you gonna get anywhere near any of my girls again?” She gives him time to shake his head again. “Right answer, again! Boy, are we on a roll! See, Angel,” Nicole says and looks back at you, “lesson learned.”

It finally seems to be over as she gets Doc’s attention and points at Jonas.

“Get him to a hospital, he might need to get that eye checked.”

You’re alone with her. Surrounded by the smell of copper and sweat.

Your whole body feels tense, locked in, but Nicole's shoulders have relaxed since the men left. She looks tired.

“Would you do the same to me?” You ask. You push almost no air at all through your vocal cords, but everything is so still you startle at how loud you sound. 

“Of course not, you didn’t beat Sarah up.” You can hear her regret. “Would you beat any of the girls up?”

You roll your eyes. “There are other offences you deal out punishments for.”

“Fine.” She turns from you to wash her hands on a small basin. “Would you betray me in any way?”

You don’t answer, simply stare at her back. You can’t condone what she did, what she _does_. But can you give her away?

Nicole turns at your silence.

“Angel, would you betray me?” She's afraid of your answer. She's now as easy for you to read as she is when laid bare, even despite the motive you've just given her to clam up.

It’s weird: she’s the one wearing a man’s blood on her shirt, but you know that here, no matter what you tell her, you’re the only one capable of doing harm.

“Come with me,” you ask her, reaching out your hand.

She takes it. Her hand is unusually cold as you lead her to your dressing room and close the door.

The smell of copper seems to be tattooed to your nostrils.

“Angel,” her voice is fragile, you can almost feel her throat closing up like yours had only a few minutes ago. “What have you done?”

“Are you going to kill me?”

Nicole'd had a lesson to teach. You have a point to prove. If to her or to yourself, you’re not sure.

She starts crying. There’s so much pain in her eyes that your heart responds to it physically. You reach up to your own chest to rub the sharp pain away.

“I can’t kill _you._ Please, Angel, what-”

“That’s not my name.”

It’s so quiet you think she’s stopped breathing, your hammering heart only contrasting further the stillness in the room.

“My name’s Waverly Earp,” you continue, “and I’m a federal agent.” You have never felt ashamed of your profession. You do now.

“No.”

“Nicol-”

_“No!” _She starts pacing, her face down and her eyes much further away, seeming to look for a way out. _“Fuck!”_ She explodes suddenly, kicking the base of the small couch where she’s had you many times, and turns to you. She looks breathless. She looks heartbroken. “You’re FBI?”

“I am.” You can hear your own heartbreak in your voice. Can feel it run down your cheek.

“I-” she shakes her head. “Why are you telling me this? Are you arresting me now?” Her focus moves to your hands, empty, and then to the empty room.

There's nothing here that would give you the power to actually arrest her. Still, had you decided to do it, you're half certain she'd follow your lead. 

“No.” You feel your heartbeat in your head and hands and stomach, as if your whole body is expanding more and more before it finally explodes – an inadequate container. “Are you going to kill me?”

You know Nicole doesn’t want to. Would never want to. But you're the enemy now. You're the threat to her and to those she protects.

She sniffs and brushes a tear from her cheek.

“No.” She shrugs. “Your name is Waverly?”

“Yea.”

She nods and steps a little closer, though not in any way close enough to touch.

“It’s pretty,” she says, then rolls her eyes, "less obvious than Angel."

And it’s a shitstorm, but she can still make you smile.

“Thank you… It’s nice to hear you say my actual name.”

Nicole nods again.

The both of you are not safe in this small room, filled with costumes for your shows and memories of Nicole watching you get dressed, but there’s a lull, a limited peace.

“So, when we… It was, you know, work?” She asks and teases the button on her shirt’s cuff repeatedly. 

“At first,” you concede. “But, _god_, you were there, Nicole. You _know._”

"Yea." She breathes in, takes you in, “yea, we were real."

“We were,” you sob and try to smile at the same time, always feeling too much when you’re around her.

An then Nicole is finally close enough to touch. She catches your tears, and, though still standing straight, her whole body seems to bend to offer you comfort.

“What do we do?” She asks.

“I… I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised a part 2, not a solution, eh?


End file.
